The moment she looked into his eyes and saw death looking back at her

She knew

She knew that she couldn’t handle bonding with a beautiful soul

Only to lose him too soon


Once again


Over and over it has been that way




At first it was easy to compartmentalize the feelings

But now they spill out

Black humour no longer works to take the edge off

Instead too many edges have worked their way under her skin

To the point where occupational trauma raises emotional welts


She forces the mask back on

The one with the forced smile and bright eyes

Manages to get through one more shift

Only by knowing that tomorrow she’ll see the doctor again

And she’ll go on stress leave




Because she knows that everything is so tightly bound

And if she has to wear that mask one more time

She’ll shatter

Into a million pieces that will never find peace

And if that happens

There’ll be no more caring

For her



David Trudel    ©  2013




Filed under Poetry

2 responses to “Caring

  1. You left me breathless but with a pounding heart. BEAUTIFUL!

    • Thanks – this came from a conversation with a dear friend of mine who is emotionally fragile after 30 years or so of caregiving. Glad you saw the beauty in the pain.

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